


you’re part of a machine (you are not a human being)

by SunsetRunner



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Red Sparrow Fusion, CIA Agent Felicity Smoak, F/M, KGB Oliver Queen, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunsetRunner/pseuds/SunsetRunner
Summary: Oliver Queen's dreams of being an Olympic gymnastics champion end the day he has a terrible accident on the rings. In order to provide for himself and his family, and secure himself a job and life in the ever-changing political landscape of Russia, he accepts an offer from his uncle to become a Sparrow, a Russian intelligence operative working for the KGB. Oliver loses himself in the process of becoming the perfect soldier, and transforms into a ruthless asset.Nearly five years after becoming a Sparrow, Oliver is tasked with making contact and getting close to CIA Agent Felicity Smoak, who is working with a mole in the high levels of the KGB. However, once he meets Felicity and gets to know her, Oliver begins to question where his loyalties truly lie; to his country or to his heart?And in this world, those questions are the most dangerous thing of all.





	you’re part of a machine (you are not a human being)

**Author's Note:**

> most of this is all background, no felicity this chapter! also, i've never attempted a fic as long as this (hopefully) will turn out, so my updating may be sporadic. 
> 
> please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! 
> 
> this is unedited, so all mistakes are mine and mine alone 
> 
> title is from “gasoline” by halsey
> 
> enjoy! 
> 
> -rachel

**Moscow, Russia: July 2012**

It's finally here.

The Olympic Trials.

The day he's been waiting for for nearly 4 years.

Oliver wraps his hands with tape again, his nerves setting his skin on fire. He takes deep breath and looks out from the tunnel he's currently in. The stands of the auditorium him and the other gymnasts are in are nearly full with adoring fans. He can see his mother and his sister Thea in the front row, holding up a sign that says his name on it. They see his outline against the bright walls of the tunnel and wave at him. He can see Thea mouthing 'good luck' to him. He lets out a nervous chuckle and heads out into the bright fluorescent lights.

Almost exactly four years ago, on this stage, Oliver punched his ticket to the games in Beijing, where he placed fourth in the men's all-around and artistic rings. The sting of coming so close to a medal still haunts him to this day, and he won't squander his chance for a second time. He's still young, only twenty-two, but knows that his body is slowly feeling the damage he has placed upon his joints after years of taxing workouts and hard falls.

His body won't make it to the next Olympics.

 _He_ won't make it to the next Olympics.

* * *

 

After three rotations, Oliver is leading his closest competitor Adrian Chase by a very small margin. All that stands between him and London are the rings. He feels confident; he knows that he's the best gymnast on rings in the arena, he knows that he's damn near the best gymnast on rings in the world. His victory, and plane ticket, are so close that he can almost taste it. 

"Good luck out there Queen," Oliver looks up from where he was focused on the powder covering his hands and looks into the cold eyes of Adrian Chase. He's standing off to the side, about a foot away from him. His arms are crossed over his broad chest and he has that same unnerving smirk on his face that he always does. He just finished his set on the rings, and Oliver watches as he massages the tense muscles of his biceps with his hands. 

"I would say thank you, Adrian.  _If_ I thought you meant it." Oliver resists the urge to say more, but Thea is always telling him to control his temper. Even at sixteen, she's much more responsible and mature than he was at her age, or how he is now. 

"Trust me Oliver, I hope that you do what we both know you can out there." 

With that same damn smile on his face, Adrian turns around and walks back to where the rest of the men are watching him. Oliver takes a deep breath and bows quickly when he hears his name being announced. Stepping up to the mat, Oliver takes a quick glance around the gymnasium and grins widely at Thea before hopping up to the rings.

If he was paying more attention to the apparatus, he would realize that there was something wrong with the attachments on the ring currently in his left hand.

But he isn't.

And he doesn't notice. 

From there, it's purely muscle memory.

Oliver propels his body forward and back, twisting at just the right time to execute his routine. It's perfect, he can feel it in his body, in his heart. He knows that this routine is going to take him to the Olympics in London, he knows that this will put him on the international radar, give him the opportunity to truly become something incredible in the sport, knows that this will allow him to give the world to his mom and Thea. Even though his muscles are burning and he's sweating something fierce, he smiles. 

But when he twists into his final flip, the attachment on the left ring comes loose, and Oliver barely has a moment to process the new information before he is plummeting down to the mats below. He can hear the surprised screams from the audience, along with the rush of voices from his teammates.

The floor rushes up and Oliver clenches his eyes shut right before impact. 

The last thing he remembers before passing out from the pain is the sound of bone breaking. 

The sound of his dreams breaking. 

 

_Ollie, wake up._

_Please Oliver._

_Wake up._

Oliver opens his eyes and immediately blinks quickly once he registers the bright lights shining in his face. The room he's in smells like bleach and antiseptic, and it burns his nose when he breathes in. His body is alight with pain and he lets out a short gasp. He tries to move his head and soft hands gently press his head back to the pillow. His eyes shift quickly around before landing on the familiar face of his younger sister. 

_Thea_

"Oliver, listen to me," he continues to struggle against her grip and finds that his movements are sluggish. It feels as though his arms don't work and his legs feel heavy. Oliver can hear an incessantly loud beeping from the heart rate monitor next to his bed. "You need to relax. You're injured and you can't risk hurting your body more." 

Oliver is confused but the resolve in Thea's warm eyes relaxes him and he works to let go of the tension currently in his frame. He closes his eyes and slowly sinks back into the hard mattress beneath him. 

"What happened?" Oliver doesn't recognize the voice that leaves his throat, it's raspier and gruffer than he can seem to remember, and suddenly he realizes how dry his mouth is. Thea brushes a hand over his cheek and gives him a soft smile. He notices that her eyes are wet and her lips are trembling. "Thea..." 

"There was an accident..." she doesn't elaborate more, and Oliver squints at her. The last thing he can remember is his conversation with Adrian prior to his rotation on the rings. 

"Thea..." 

"I really should wait until the doctors get back before I tell you everything. They need to know that you're awake," she moves to let go of him and Oliver huffs in response. 

"Tell me what's going on, Thea" he pauses. Oliver can see the war raging in her eyes, knows that she wants to tell him the truth but is somehow nervous about his reaction. "The truth, please." He watches as she shuts her eyes tightly, and a single tear tracks down her face. His heart aches for her, and he wants to protect her from whatever has made her upset. 

Thea takes a deep breath in and opens her eyes, making eye contact and holding while she explains, "When you were on the rings, something happened. Something went wrong. You were nearly done with your routine, but all of a sudden, the support snapped and you fell. Your coach moved away after the first few passes, and he was unable to get back in time to assist you when you fell. You were in the middle of a turn, and landed right on your left arm, dislocating your shoulder, breaking your elbow, and fracturing your radius in two places. The break was so bad that they had to take you into emergency surgery in order to repair it."

Oliver slowly processes her words, each sentence feeling like a nail in the coffin that holds his dreams of becoming a Olympic champion. He aches for those dreams. Feels like a part of himself has suddenly been stolen away from him. Feels like he has lost what he deserves. For the last sixteen years of his life, Oliver has devoted his time to this career, costing him personal relationships and time. He has spent the overwhelming majority of his life chasing one dream and one dream alone, and in the span of a few seconds, it has all been taken from him. 

Oliver gently moves his head out of Thea's hands and moves to sit up. She automatically sits back and falls into her chair, pressing the button to raise the bed into a sitting position. Before he can tell himself not to, Oliver glances down at his left arm, and immediately regrets it. There are large pins sticking out of the flesh, and there's a long line of stitches down the top of arm. The skin is torn and angry, with dried blood crusting around both the stitches and the pin. 

It makes him sick to look at. 

Tears come to his eyes. 

"Can you please leave?" Oliver quietly asks. Thea looks at him in shock and shakes her head, going to wrap her hands around his before she thinks better of it. 

"No, Ollie, I don't think you should be alone right no--" 

"Thea, please..." 

"Olive--" 

"Please! Just go!" He nearly shouts at her and watches in horror as she shrinks back into the hospital chair, her hands coming back to her lap as she wrings them together. Oliver can see now that she's crying earnestly, and a soft sob comes out of her throat. 

"Thea, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--" 

Before he can finish his apology, Thea gets up and swiftly walks from the room, shutting the door behind her. Oliver feels ashamed at himself for snapping at her like that. No matter how stressed he's been with championships or school or work, or anything really, he's always resolved to never take it out on his baby sister. Regret and shame course through his body, and it just makes the tears in his eyes hotter, makes them course down his cheeks. 

In the five minutes or so since he's awoken, Oliver's entire world has been shaken and he does the only thing he can think to do in response.

He cries.

He cries for the lost dream that has sustained him in the cold world that is Russia. 

He cries for the future he thought he had built for himself and his family.

He cries for his broken body.

But mostly, he cries for himself. 

* * *

 

**Moscow, Russia: November 2012**

Oliver struggles to open the door to the apartment provided to him from the Russian Artistic Gymnastics Federation. His cast is bulky around his arm, and the grocery bags he was carrying drop to the floor. 

"Shit!" 

He bends down to gather up the bags and holds them with his one good arm. 

 He can hear Thea and his mom bustling around inside and for a second, wishes to turn and run the other way. Ever since his accident at the Olympic Trials, they've tiptoed around him, walking on eggshells, scared that any little thing would set him off like that day in the hospital. But nothing has. Since the day his dreams came crashing down around him, Oliver has retreated into himself in a way that he hadn't done since his father died ten years before. He didn't laugh like he used to, didn't come out of his room for much more than a couple hours a day. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Oliver pushes into the cramped two bedroom apartment that now houses everything important to him. He glances at the water stained wallpaper and the dusty ceiling tiles. It's not exactly the same as the luxury loft he had been given when he was the star of the Russian gymnastic team, but it has cheap rent and it's safe, and that's pretty much all he can ask for now. He sees Thea and Moira in the kitchen, probably preparing one of his favorite meals. Ever since he got out of the hospital, they've only made his favorite foods, seemingly trying to make up for his injury with more and more comfort food. 

"Ollie!" 

Thea sets the meat she was working on making down before rushing over to wrap her arms around him. He gingerly wraps his right arm around her shoulder and presses a quick kiss to her head. 

"Where did you go today?"

"Hey, Speedy. I stopped by the gym to see Adrian and congratulate him on his medal. I know the games were five months ago, but I haven't seen him since." Thea shakes her head and rolls her eyes when she steps back from him. 

"You shouldn't have to congratulate him," before he gets a chance to interrupt and say how he didn't  _have_ to do anything, she presses on, a melancholic look on her face, "It should've been you." He shrugs off her concerned look before heading into the kitchen and giving Moira a kiss on the cheek. She turns back and places a warm hand on his face, lightly smoothing at the stubble now adorning it. 

Even after six months in his new reality, he still gets choked up at the mention of  _almost._ It has been a hard road to acceptance on the injury front, but after consultations with many doctors and physicians, Oliver has finally accepted that his dream of being an Olympic champion came to an end the day of the Trials. 

"Oliver, your uncle Malcom is coming to dinner tonight," his mother's voice brings him from his thoughts as he sits down at a chair in the kitchen. Oliver rolls his eyes. It's no secret that Malcolm is pretty close to being his least favorite person on the planet. Oliver's distrust of Malcolm stems from how he chased after Moira after Oliver's father, Robert, died. Not even two weeks after his 'best friend' died, Malcolm tried to worm himself into his dead best friend's wife's bed. He hates that his mom refers to Malcolm as his uncle, but he knows that it's for Thea's benefit. 

"Oh, and who invited him?" Oliver can't resist snarking back. 

"Be nice." 

Five hours later, the plates are cleared and Thea and his mother are getting ready for bed. Oliver sits on the apartment's balcony, taking a slow drag from a cigarette. He hears the door slide open behind him but doesn't turn around. The only one foolish enough to join him in his brooding on this cold evening would be Malcolm. Oliver grits his teeth and drops the cigarette to the group, stamping it out with the toe of his shoe.

Without turning around, Oliver asks, "What can I do for you Malcolm?" 

Malcolm comes up next to Oliver and leans against the railing, looking out at the city around them. 

"Oliver, I worry about you. Ever since the accident, you haven't been yourself, and I'm worried for you. I'm worried for Thea. I'm worried for your mother. I think you need to get out of here, get a job, and work towards making a new life for yourself." 

Oliver scoffs, "And what? You're going to help me with that?" He turns towards Malcolm and there's a hard glint in the older man's eyes that worries Oliver. Frankly, it scares him a little. 

"Actually, I'd like to." Malcolm gestures to the small table out on the balcony and Oliver reluctantly takes a seat. Leaning back in his chair, he places his hands on the table and fixes a stare on Malcolm, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

Oliver raises his eyebrows and hands, "Go on." 

"I don't know how much you know about your father's old job, but Robert used to work for me--"

"Work for you? I thought father always said he had a job in a chop shop a couple miles away?" Oliver questions. He doesn't remember much about his father beyond the warm love given to him, and the comfort of having someone taking care of him. He forgets the mundane things they used to discuss. 

"Please don't interrupt me," Malcolm grits out. His eyes are blazing, but he takes a deep breath and calms himself down. "But no, that was only a cover. Robert used to work with me,  _for_ me. For the government." 

"The government?" 

"The KGB." 

Oliver's eyes widen at that. He'd always known, somewhere deep inside that he'd never allowed himself to voice, that his father was involved in something bigger than a chop shop. When he was thirteen, nearly a year after his father's death, Oliver had come across a box in the back of the closet with numerous guns and other weapons, drugs, money, and passports. At the time, still grieving over his father's death, Oliver hadn't known what to do with the information. So he turned to his father's best friend, Malcolm. Who 'took care of it'.

That became a lot more coincidental now. 

"And what does the KGB have to do with me making a new life for myself after gymnastics?" Even as he asked this, Oliver knew the answer, but didn't want to accept it. 

"I'd like for you to consider coming to work for me, working for our country, making us a global power again. I'd like for you to become a  _Sparrow."_

Oliver was confused. He'd never heard of a Sparrow before. 

"What's a Sparrow?" 

Malcolm rests his hands on the top of the table and cracks his knuckles.

"A Sparrow is an agent skilled in intelligence gathering, who uses their  _strengths_ to commit espionage and protect their country without question. A Sparrow becomes skilled in the art of seduction, while also honing the body and mind into a dangerous weapon." He pauses for a moment, staring at Oliver intently. 

"What do you say?" 

Oliver takes a moment to think before answering. He looks back into the apartment and sees his mother and sister sliding into their shared bed. He glances around at the small apartment he's been placed in, been  _trapped in._ Oliver turns to look out at the city around him, and imagines being stuck here for the rest of his life, instead of traveling the world like he had wanted. He imagines meeting a nice, boring girl with a nice, boring family, and living a nice, boring life with her, popping out a few kids along the way. He imagines going to work at a chop shop, or in construction. He imagines what will happen to Thea and Moira once they're kicked out of their apartment inevitably. 

He hates this future. 

He doesn't want to die here. 

He wants more from his life.

"When do we start?" 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr as smolsmoak


End file.
